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Actually getting up on the stage and singing wasn’t the hard part. It was like going to the dentist; once you were in the chair and under the lights, things didn’t seem so bad. It was the wait that made the anxiety monstrous and fanged, left you squirming in your seat and wanting to just go home, consequences and lost opportunities be damned. Her lip was puffy and sore. She licked it and huffed.\n\nShe was watching the audience - a funny thing to call eight people, but that was what she knew it as. Two of the professors she actually studied under were sitting a few rows back, making notes and murmuring to each other. She respected them greatly, and they her, openly viewing her as a girl with much potential, albeit with a penchant for nervousness.\n\nSilvia opened up a little bit more every day, of course. A year ago and she wouldn’t have dreamed of stepping out on the stage, but here she was now, watching the vixen before her work her way through a shaky rendition of [i]Sweet Dreams Are Made of This[/i] which Silvia quietly believed the fox didn’t have the soul for.\n\nThe vixen finished, none the wiser as to her dismal performance, thinking she had done quite well. She took her bow to polite applause from the six students watching in the front row, turned, smiled at Silvia, and exited the stage at the left.\n\nNow it was just Silvia. She was the final audition for that month’s musical (for one of the lead spots, no less, where she’d be playing the conservative-minded country girl coming to grips with sex and sin in a college town), and it felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She stared at the glaring ring of the spotlight and chewed her lip, making it yet more painfully thick.\n\n“Silvia?” It was one of her professors - Professor Coolidge, the green dragon, and the youngest of the faculty at a spry one-hundred-and-twenty-nine years of age. He called to her again with his battery-powered bullhorn, adding her embarrassing and not-often-spoken-of surname this time.\n\n“I’m here!” she finally said, half-running, half-prancing to the spotlight. Anxiety and excitement were pulling her in different directions. “I’m here, I’m here! I’m ready.” The latter point was a lie.\n\nCoolidge shifted in his seat. Next to him was the taller, pudgier, all-around more stuffy Professor Goldhorn (which was a misnomer due to his decidedly gray horns). He was the one Silvia was usually intimidated by. Three centuries old and with unfailingly critical perceptions concerning music among other things, he wouldn’t let his fatherly affection for her stop him from delivering his brutal honesty.\n\n“Uh, I’m going to be singing the song [i]Ironic,”[/i] she said, wringing her fuzzy hands in front of her belly. “Is that all right?”\n\n“Go ahead,” Coolidge said, his pained smile hidden by the darkness. Goldhorn’s derisive snort went unheard by her.\n\nAll the songs, basically karaoke mixes, were gathered beforehand specifically for the auditions. But whether through malice or a simple mistake, Silvia’s chosen song wasn’t cued up to play. Instead, when the young sparrow backstage started Silvia’s song, what came out of the speakers was a very distinctive piece of spoken word: [i]“Oh. My.[/i] God. [i]Becky,[/i] look [i]at her butt. It is[/i] so [i]big!”[/i]\n\nOne of the students in the front row couldn’t help it and let loose a quick titter. The others were holding their composure, but barely, with reddened muzzles behind muffling paws. Coolidge and Goldhorn, with all their years and dignity, weren’t doing much better.\n\n[i]“She looks like one of those rap guys’ girlfriends!”[/i]\n\nSilvia’s eyes were wide like saucers. Her fingers were interlaced over her belly and her legs were straight as posts. Even her perpetually swishing tail dangled limp from her body like a willow switch. The music was stopped just as the opening beat began, but the damage was done.\n\n“Sil–, Silvia,” Coolidge said into his bullhorn, his voice catching and breaking with snickers. “Oh, god, Silvia. Do you–.” The first snort of his laughter got through before he let go of the button.\n\nGoldhorn was, as to be expected, the first to get his bearings and the first to get up. Coolidge was young enough to follow his lead, but he didn’t get a look at the older dragon’s face. If he had, he would have been perplexed by the impish smile on his elder’s snout.\n\nThe two dragons took to either side of Silvia, making her feel improbably smaller than she already was. The other students were watching the scene unfold with a gamut of curiosity across their faces. One of them thought with some concern that Silvia looked ill enough to pass out.\n\nStill not sure what the plan was, Coolidge gently shook Silvia by the arm. “Silvia, everything all right, girl?”\n\n“Oh, she’s fine, just a little embarrassed,” Goldhorn chuckled. Glancing half-heartedly at the small crowd, he murmured, “There’s an old, [i]old[/i] provision in the university’s statute which posits that the will to please an instructor can be taken in lieu of a completed assignment, at the instructor’s discretion.”\n\nCoolidge grunted. “That nonsense is five centuries old. Nobody ever–!”\n\nBut Goldhorn already had his stuffy tweed slacks halfway down. All eyes in the auditorium were on his free-hanging penis. “Nobody ever uses said provision,” he tutted, “but that doesn’t mean it isn’t valid.” He winked at Coolidge behind his gold-rimmed spectacles then smiled down at the girl. Her cheeks were incredibly warm. Her tail had begun to swish again. “And while the provision doesn’t say that such pleasing must be sexual in nature…”\n\n“…it doesn’t say it [i]can’t[/i] be.” Coolidge completed the thought with quiet interest. “Hmm.”\n\n“Do you still want to be in the play, Silvia?” Goldhorn asked, head cocked, smile warm and fatherly.\n\nSilvia was not at all adept at resisting Goldhorn’s charm. He was old, yes, but terribly handsome and elegant. She smiled back, looking a little dreamy. “I do, Professor Goldhorn. So very much.”\n\nAnd she began to touch his body, palming his belly first, penis second. Goldhorn rumbled approvingly. He glanced up at Coolidge and murmured, “Undress her.”\n\nCoolidge did. Not so much because he was inclined to obey his seniors, but because he was very interested in the way things were going. When Silvia’s flat, fuzzy body was bare, he took a proactive step and undressed his own body too. Goldhorn was amused.\n\n“A little presumptuous of you, Mr. Coolidge.”\n\n“I’m one of the judges here too. I deserve to be pleased as much as you, [i]Mr. Goldhorn.”[/i]\n\nChallenging, playful grins were exchanged. The older, tubbier dragon conceded the point with a graceful bow of his head. Then, “Silvia, kneel please.”\n\nThe girl did so, but as she tried to put hands on Goldhorn’s member again, he turned away from her. His wide ass, covered in fleshlike hide, loomed large before her face. Subtle musk greeted her; a thin sheen of sweat gleamed on him in the hot stage light. “My behind,” he said demonstratively. “What’s the hip term for analingus these days? A rimjob?”\n\n“Yes, Professor Goldhorn,” said Silvia sheepishly, submissively. Embarrassed though she was, however, she was not hesitant. Tail beating a clumsy rhythm on the floorboards, she brought her snout near the split of his ass cheeks and pried them apart with her soft hands. Nestled between them, winking and waiting for affection, was Goldhorn’s soft pink anus. It too was wet with sweat. Silvia was loathe to admit how much that turned her on, but the wetness between her thighs was a dead giveaway.\n\nShe closed her eyes as she pushed her lips into his rear. Soft hide rubbed on her snout, smoothing down the thick pile of her fur. A scandalous murmur passed through the small audience. Coolidge chuckled, masturbating slowly, Goldhorn moaned, softly gyrating into her face.\n\nSilvia gave Goldhorn’s pucker a kiss, and then came the tongue. She licked his entrance slowly but eagerly, smearing on saliva, displacing sweat. She released his cheeks, wrapping a hand around his thigh instead. Quite shamelessly, driven to such things by the magnetic charm of Goldhorn’s personality and body, she fingered herself.\n\nA couple of the students were texting their friends. One of them was filming the act on his phone. Gradually, their six ballooned to twenty-one as Silvia delicately rimmed her handsome professor. None of the dragons remarked on the growing audience.\n\n“Harder, girl. Little harder. I’m finding myself more and more inclined to give you the part you were looking for,” Goldhorn spoke. His tone never attained any kind of lewdness; he sounded as plain and firm as when he criticized performances and discussed fallacies in term papers.\n\n“Mhm,” Silvia murmured, beginning to push with her tongue, prodding the chubby dragon’s pucker. By then the crowd was up to thirty-three heads. There was some masturbation going on, some of it mutual. Coolidge was still pumping himself as well.\n\nIt was only when Silvia managed to thrust her tongue past the ring of Goldhorn’s asshole that the dragon’s composure broke. He gasped and briefly doubled over, which had the effect of jabbing his fat ass harder into her face. “Goodness, Silvia,” he breathed, pre falling from his cock, pattering on the floorboards. “I always knew you were my finest student.”\n\nCoolidge couldn’t handle anymore. Too envious of his senior and too impatient to wait his turn, he stroked lovingly on her head a moment, then pulled her back. Her pumping, slurping tongue smoothly disengaged Goldhorn. A runner of slobber momentarily bridged her tongue and the crack of his ass.\n\n“Ah, and all good things thus come to an end,” Goldhorn tutted, remaining folded over a few moments longer.\n\n“One good thing ends,” Coolidge chuckled, “but another starts. Lie back, Silvia - and spread your lovely legs.”\n\nShe obeyed. How couldn’t she? Coolidge was as handsome as Goldhorn. A little less charming, but nicer, more personable; somebody she could see herself dating if not for the age disparity. “Yes, of course, Professor Coolidge,” she obediently droned. Her snatch was delicate but wet, its lips and all the fur around it wetted from her masturbation.\n\nMounting the girl, putting his bottom on display to the crowd (which now was fifty strong and then some), Coolidge purred, “Remember you need [i]all[/i] your presiding instructors to agree that you’ve done everything you can to please them.” He entered her slowly; his shaft was thicker than Goldhorn’s, textured with pounding veins. Silvia’s soft but eager moan proved to be all the acknowledgment he needed from her.\n\nNow it was Goldhorn’s turn to masturbate. He did so kneeling near Silvia’s pretty face, watching how she contorted with pleasure and the odd twinge of pain. Offhandedly he said, “As for the rest of you, do [i]not[/i] think this is an invitation to slack off. My pleasure could just as easily be making you scrub the floors with a toothbrush.”\n\nSilvia giggled, ostensibly at Goldhorn. She stroked the younger dragon’s snout and cooed, “Professor Coolidge… harder, if you please.”\n\nCommissioned by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/pullmytail/ and written by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ceeb\n\n\n\nhope you like it :)", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Silvia had been chewing her lip through the whole audition. Actually getting up on the stage and singing wasn’t the hard part. It was like going to the dentist; once you were in the chair and under the lights, things didn’t seem so bad. It was the wait that made the anxiety monstrous and fanged, left you squirming in your seat and wanting to just go home, consequences and lost opportunities be damned. Her lip was puffy and sore. She licked it and huffed.

She was watching the audience - a funny thing to call eight people, but that was what she knew it as. Two of the professors she actually studied under were sitting a few rows back, making notes and murmuring to each other. She respected them greatly, and they her, openly viewing her as a girl with much potential, albeit with a penchant for nervousness.

Silvia opened up a little bit more every day, of course. A year ago and she wouldn’t have dreamed of stepping out on the stage, but here she was now, watching the vixen before her work her way through a shaky rendition of Sweet Dreams Are Made of This which Silvia quietly believed the fox didn’t have the soul for.

The vixen finished, none the wiser as to her dismal performance, thinking she had done quite well. She took her bow to polite applause from the six students watching in the front row, turned, smiled at Silvia, and exited the stage at the left.

Now it was just Silvia. She was the final audition for that month’s musical (for one of the lead spots, no less, where she’d be playing the conservative-minded country girl coming to grips with sex and sin in a college town), and it felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She stared at the glaring ring of the spotlight and chewed her lip, making it yet more painfully thick.

“Silvia?” It was one of her professors - Professor Coolidge, the green dragon, and the youngest of the faculty at a spry one-hundred-and-twenty-nine years of age. He called to her again with his battery-powered bullhorn, adding her embarrassing and not-often-spoken-of surname this time.

“I’m here!” she finally said, half-running, half-prancing to the spotlight. Anxiety and excitement were pulling her in different directions. “I’m here, I’m here! I’m ready.” The latter point was a lie.

Coolidge shifted in his seat. Next to him was the taller, pudgier, all-around more stuffy Professor Goldhorn (which was a misnomer due to his decidedly gray horns). He was the one Silvia was usually intimidated by. Three centuries old and with unfailingly critical perceptions concerning music among other things, he wouldn’t let his fatherly affection for her stop him from delivering his brutal honesty.

“Uh, I’m going to be singing the song Ironic,” she said, wringing her fuzzy hands in front of her belly. “Is that all right?”

“Go ahead,” Coolidge said, his pained smile hidden by the darkness. Goldhorn’s derisive snort went unheard by her.

All the songs, basically karaoke mixes, were gathered beforehand specifically for the auditions. But whether through malice or a simple mistake, Silvia’s chosen song wasn’t cued up to play. Instead, when the young sparrow backstage started Silvia’s song, what came out of the speakers was a very distinctive piece of spoken word: “Oh. My. God. Becky, look at her butt. It is so big!”

One of the students in the front row couldn’t help it and let loose a quick titter. The others were holding their composure, but barely, with reddened muzzles behind muffling paws. Coolidge and Goldhorn, with all their years and dignity, weren’t doing much better.

“She looks like one of those rap guys’ girlfriends!”

Silvia’s eyes were wide like saucers. Her fingers were interlaced over her belly and her legs were straight as posts. Even her perpetually swishing tail dangled limp from her body like a willow switch. The music was stopped just as the opening beat began, but the damage was done.

“Sil–, Silvia,” Coolidge said into his bullhorn, his voice catching and breaking with snickers. “Oh, god, Silvia. Do you–.” The first snort of his laughter got through before he let go of the button.

Goldhorn was, as to be expected, the first to get his bearings and the first to get up. Coolidge was young enough to follow his lead, but he didn’t get a look at the older dragon’s face. If he had, he would have been perplexed by the impish smile on his elder’s snout.

The two dragons took to either side of Silvia, making her feel improbably smaller than she already was. The other students were watching the scene unfold with a gamut of curiosity across their faces. One of them thought with some concern that Silvia looked ill enough to pass out.

Still not sure what the plan was, Coolidge gently shook Silvia by the arm. “Silvia, everything all right, girl?”

“Oh, she’s fine, just a little embarrassed,” Goldhorn chuckled. Glancing half-heartedly at the small crowd, he murmured, “There’s an old, old provision in the university’s statute which posits that the will to please an instructor can be taken in lieu of a completed assignment, at the instructor’s discretion.”

Coolidge grunted. “That nonsense is five centuries old. Nobody ever–!”

But Goldhorn already had his stuffy tweed slacks halfway down. All eyes in the auditorium were on his free-hanging penis. “Nobody ever uses said provision,” he tutted, “but that doesn’t mean it isn’t valid.” He winked at Coolidge behind his gold-rimmed spectacles then smiled down at the girl. Her cheeks were incredibly warm. Her tail had begun to swish again. “And while the provision doesn’t say that such pleasing must be sexual in nature…”

“…it doesn’t say it can’t be.” Coolidge completed the thought with quiet interest. “Hmm.”

“Do you still want to be in the play, Silvia?” Goldhorn asked, head cocked, smile warm and fatherly.

Silvia was not at all adept at resisting Goldhorn’s charm. He was old, yes, but terribly handsome and elegant. She smiled back, looking a little dreamy. “I do, Professor Goldhorn. So very much.”

And she began to touch his body, palming his belly first, penis second. Goldhorn rumbled approvingly. He glanced up at Coolidge and murmured, “Undress her.”

Coolidge did. Not so much because he was inclined to obey his seniors, but because he was very interested in the way things were going. When Silvia’s flat, fuzzy body was bare, he took a proactive step and undressed his own body too. Goldhorn was amused.

“A little presumptuous of you, Mr. Coolidge.”

“I’m one of the judges here too. I deserve to be pleased as much as you, Mr. Goldhorn.”

Challenging, playful grins were exchanged. The older, tubbier dragon conceded the point with a graceful bow of his head. Then, “Silvia, kneel please.”

The girl did so, but as she tried to put hands on Goldhorn’s member again, he turned away from her. His wide ass, covered in fleshlike hide, loomed large before her face. Subtle musk greeted her; a thin sheen of sweat gleamed on him in the hot stage light. “My behind,” he said demonstratively. “What’s the hip term for analingus these days? A rimjob?”

“Yes, Professor Goldhorn,” said Silvia sheepishly, submissively. Embarrassed though she was, however, she was not hesitant. Tail beating a clumsy rhythm on the floorboards, she brought her snout near the split of his ass cheeks and pried them apart with her soft hands. Nestled between them, winking and waiting for affection, was Goldhorn’s soft pink anus. It too was wet with sweat. Silvia was loathe to admit how much that turned her on, but the wetness between her thighs was a dead giveaway.

She closed her eyes as she pushed her lips into his rear. Soft hide rubbed on her snout, smoothing down the thick pile of her fur. A scandalous murmur passed through the small audience. Coolidge chuckled, masturbating slowly, Goldhorn moaned, softly gyrating into her face.

Silvia gave Goldhorn’s pucker a kiss, and then came the tongue. She licked his entrance slowly but eagerly, smearing on saliva, displacing sweat. She released his cheeks, wrapping a hand around his thigh instead. Quite shamelessly, driven to such things by the magnetic charm of Goldhorn’s personality and body, she fingered herself.

A couple of the students were texting their friends. One of them was filming the act on his phone. Gradually, their six ballooned to twenty-one as Silvia delicately rimmed her handsome professor. None of the dragons remarked on the growing audience.

“Harder, girl. Little harder. I’m finding myself more and more inclined to give you the part you were looking for,” Goldhorn spoke. His tone never attained any kind of lewdness; he sounded as plain and firm as when he criticized performances and discussed fallacies in term papers.

“Mhm,” Silvia murmured, beginning to push with her tongue, prodding the chubby dragon’s pucker. By then the crowd was up to thirty-three heads. There was some masturbation going on, some of it mutual. Coolidge was still pumping himself as well.

It was only when Silvia managed to thrust her tongue past the ring of Goldhorn’s asshole that the dragon’s composure broke. He gasped and briefly doubled over, which had the effect of jabbing his fat ass harder into her face. “Goodness, Silvia,” he breathed, pre falling from his cock, pattering on the floorboards. “I always knew you were my finest student.”

Coolidge couldn’t handle anymore. Too envious of his senior and too impatient to wait his turn, he stroked lovingly on her head a moment, then pulled her back. Her pumping, slurping tongue smoothly disengaged Goldhorn. A runner of slobber momentarily bridged her tongue and the crack of his ass.

“Ah, and all good things thus come to an end,” Goldhorn tutted, remaining folded over a few moments longer.

“One good thing ends,” Coolidge chuckled, “but another starts. Lie back, Silvia - and spread your lovely legs.”

She obeyed. How couldn’t she? Coolidge was as handsome as Goldhorn. A little less charming, but nicer, more personable; somebody she could see herself dating if not for the age disparity. “Yes, of course, Professor Coolidge,” she obediently droned. Her snatch was delicate but wet, its lips and all the fur around it wetted from her masturbation.

Mounting the girl, putting his bottom on display to the crowd (which now was fifty strong and then some), Coolidge purred, “Remember you need all your presiding instructors to agree that you’ve done everything you can to please them.” He entered her slowly; his shaft was thicker than Goldhorn’s, textured with pounding veins. Silvia’s soft but eager moan proved to be all the acknowledgment he needed from her.

Now it was Goldhorn’s turn to masturbate. He did so kneeling near Silvia’s pretty face, watching how she contorted with pleasure and the odd twinge of pain. Offhandedly he said, “As for the rest of you, do not think this is an invitation to slack off. My pleasure could just as easily be making you scrub the floors with a toothbrush.”

Silvia giggled, ostensibly at Goldhorn. She stroked the younger dragon’s snout and cooed, “Professor Coolidge… harder, if you please.”

Commissioned by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/pullmytail/ and written by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ceeb



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